Chasing Shadows
by Leopardkala
Summary: "Contrary to popular belief, the world of fairytales was not a nice place." Hakuba is looking for the Moonlight Magician, but what he finds isn't nearly so benign.


"Aren't you done yet?" Nakamori barked impatiently. Grumbles of agreement came from the officers behind him, sounding disproportionately loud in the squad room. The officers, some behind desks, others standing, all of them glaring, ranged from 'exhausted and in need of caffeine' to 'frustrated and in need of caffeine'. A few brandished mugs menacingly.

Standing in front of the inspector, the young forensic officer looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. Hakuba didn't blame her; not only was she impeding (however unwillingly) Nakamori in a Kaitou Kid investigation, she was also standing between the Task Force and their beloved coffee machine.

"I- I'm sorry, Nakamori-keibu," she said, not looking at the crowd of annoyed officers, "but it's going to be a little longer before we can allow access to the, ah, the scene."

Someone growled.

The forensic technician swallowed visibly, but stayed where she was. It was just her bad luck that she had been the technician in charge when the Kid had decided that the Task Force coffee machine was the _perfect_ place to put his heist notice. Behind the hastily-erected barrier, Hakuba could see another technician crouched by the machine itself, checking the beige carpet for any sign left by the thief. He was not looking up.

"The scene may take longer," Hakuba said, stepping forward slightly to draw attention away from the poor woman, "but I believe the lab should have a copy of the note for us by now. Shall we go see?" Between the confusion and the confrontation, Hakuba hadn't been able to see the contents of the note before the lab took it- though he was also aware enough of himself to recognise his own chivalric impulses. Well, it wasn't the technician's fault she was following procedure.

Nakamori made a disgruntled noise, but evidentially saw reason. With a sharp motion, he turned and stalked off towards the forensics department, leaving the gathered officers to disperse. Hopefully. Hakuba hesitated for a moment, but Kid-chasing won out over chivalry and he turned to follow Nakamori down the hall. At least he'd removed one of the poor woman's problems.

He tried not to wince at the sound of another growl from behind them.

The lab did indeed have a copy of the note for them, and were quite happy to get it (and the inspector) off their hands. Since the note had been discovered inside the station, it had a certain amount of priority; but on the other hand, most of the force had long since designated the Kid as 'too weird- Nakamori's problem'. There was a _reason_ he'd analysed the Kid's hair at his own lab.

The note had been written on ordinary memo paper, probably also taken from the police station. Hakuba stared down at the plainly written words and wondered, not for the first time, if the thief was completely mad.

"When the lady moon reigns and the wise ones have come to play in Tokyo streets, I will steal away the queen's mirror from the cave of wonders."

The Kid was doing fairytales now?

Nakamori frowned at it. "Queen's mirror's probably a gem, given his recent track record. Cave of wonders we can figure out when we find whoever's gotten another copy of the note; some of the rookies are on that, we'll get it before too long. But why the #%&*'s he calling the moon a lady?"

"The moon is considered female in most western cultures," Hakuba answered absently. Which meant that the Kid was probably referencing western culture in the next bit as well. "Wise ones could be owls..."

***

"It's really quite exciting!" Narita said cheerfully. "No one's ever taken such an interest in my collection before. And an actual magician no less!" It had been so exciting, in fact, that the man had forgotten to call the police until three hours after receiving the heist note.

The cave of wonders, as it turned out, was a house belonging to one Narita Daichi and used to store his collection of "mystical" artefacts. Picking up at least one or two on every trip he'd ever taken, the retired businessman had amassed a frankly impressive variety of charms, talismans, and trinkets from all over the world. Then, on his last trip, the old man had managed to get his hands on a talisman which was supposed to grant true foresight- and whose central stone was an amethyst the size of his palm.

"The Kid does make inventive use of stage magic," Hakuba agreed. "But I'm sure we can keep your amulet safe, Narita-san." He tried not to look like he was looking down at the older man, whose joyful bouncing contrasted oddly with the formal kimono he was wearing.

"Oh, I'm not worried about that," Narita said, waving a hand dismissively. "The Kid always returns what he steals sooner or later, so it's only a few days missing. What's a few days? And of course there's the Task Force," he added hastily, "I'm sure you can stop the thief from stealing it at all." Someone caught his eye and he turned. "Ah, Nakamori-keibu!"

"That is rather the intent," Hakuba murmured to himself as Narita walked away, talking animatedly to the inspector. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the task at hand.

Hakuba moved a few steps towards the room where the talisman- the "Queen's mirror"- was being held, and tripped over an inconveniently placed wooden chest. He just managed to catch himself with one hand on the doorframe. Had anyone noticed- no, none of the officers nearby seemed to have caught his undignified stumble. He straightened, adjusted his cuffs, and continued towards the display room.

Not that they should really blame him, not after many near-misses and the loss of one clay sculpture to a hapless rookie's flailing. Nakamori had finally thrown his hands up in disgust and sent all but a few members of the Task Force out to patrol the streets. For all the good it would do. Any chasing would happen inside the house, where the lack of sightlines or clear paths would make catching the Kid a near-impossible task.

Which was why he, being in the building on a probationary basis at best, needed to be absolutely beyond reproach. Hakuba nodded politely to the officer in charge of guarding the talisman and continued, watching his footing much more carefully.

Hardwood floors, difficult if not impossible to implant a device in. Sturdy, older walls, hard to trap without damaging. Display case was simple, solid wood and glass, and checked every fifteen minutes for tricks; guards bore several red marks from mask-checks, and would gain more before the night was out. Hakuba resisted the urge to rub his own stinging cheek. The ceiling was directly under the roof, and under watch from officers stationed on top of the nearby houses. All the windows had been sealed when Narita had started using the place for his treasures. On the surface, the house seemed impregnable.

So how would the Kid manage it _this _time?

Hakuba, now outside the central room, pulled out his pocket watch to check it. 11:31:17, twenty-nine minutes and forty-three seconds until the "witching hour" referenced in the note. The Kid was likely in or near the building by now, preparing for his performance.

A disguise seemed unlikely given the small number of people present and the vast array of possible hiding spots. So somehow, the Kid had found or would find a way through the walls.

If the Kid could find it, so could he.

***

Hakuba stepped into yet another small room, carefully feeling along the wall for the light switch. If the pattern held, it would be- there. He eyed the room. Sighed.

It had rapidly come clear that if Narita had any sort of organizational system, it was comprehensible only to himself. Egyptian amulets next to hex bags next to ofuda, boxes stacked on shelves shoved in next to stands and chests... it was making his head ache. He was running low on time (eight minutes and thirteen seconds until the start of the heist) and he _still_ hadn't found any trace of the Kid.

As if to underline that thought, Hakuba stumbled over a low table that had been wedged between two pedestals. He cursed under his breath, wishing yet again that Narita had been willing to let them move his talisman. But the old man had refused (Hakuba suspected that he actually wanted the Kid to succeed; the thief was, after all, also called the Magician under the Moonlight) and the representatives of the law had been forced to set up in this cluttered, ill-lit, drafty-

There shouldn't be a draft there.

Hakuba froze mid-step, head tilted up as he tried to track the insubstantial breath of cooler air back to its source. All the windows were supposed to have been sealed over, but... He took a few careful steps forward and to the left.

There! From his vantage point, Hakuba could just see a tell-tale sliver of midnight sky over the top edge of the great oak cabinet in the back of the room. The thief must have been counting on the height of the window and the general clutter to hide the fact that it had been unsealed. The outer wall was less than half a metre from the next building over, which explained why the patrolling officers hadn't caught it.

Of course the Kid would already be inside, but the loss of his exit might delay him, if nothing else. Hakuba circled around the cabinet to try and get a better look at the opening. Perhaps ask a task force member to guard it? Though it was always a bit of a bother getting them to listen to him...

As he moved, one arm bumped a carved wooden stand, setting it and the clay pot on top of it rocking. Before he could reach it, the pot tipped over, tumbling off of the wood and-

_Shattering_.

It was a sensation akin to one of the Kid's flash bombs, though there was no light or sonics that Hakuba could detect. He slammed his eyes shut anyway, turning his head away in automatic response to protect his vision.

When he opened his eyes, the room had grown noticeably darker.

Hakuba looked over to check the single lamp that had been responsible for lighting the side room. It was still there, the bulb was still on, but... the light wasn't reaching as far. As if there was something in the air, blocking it.

He turned back in alarm to see thin black haze rising from the potshards on the floor. Not a smoke bomb; some kind of fine powder? Or a gas- Hakuba backed away, raising an arm to cover his nose and mouth. This wasn't the Kid's usual smoke, he knew the look and smell of that like the back of his hand. Who knew what kinds of substances Narita had collected? There were dozens, if not hundreds of drugs that had once been thought to have mystical effects. He retreated as quickly as he could with the dimming light forcing him to carefully feel out every step.

But the smoke was coalescing instead of dispersing, forming a dark cloud above the pot. That didn't make any sense; if it was light enough to be carried on the air, it should have followed the currents and drifted towards the opposite corner. What made even less sense was the way it seemed to be _shaping_ itself, the cloud becoming a column and portions separating off to create a vaguely humanoid form.

Hakuba felt a prickle of unease. A cloud like that should have been nearly invisible, dark as the room was. He could see it perfectly.

It looked- if it wasn't made of smoke and some sort of strange air pocket, and if the word weren't a superstitious concept that had no place in the complexities of life, he would have said that it looked evil. Malicious. Like some creature out of the oldest stories, preying on the children who went out after dark (he'd read Grim in the originals when he was nine, and other stories like them; contrary to popular belief, the world of fairytales was _not_ a nice place).

Which was an irrelevant, ridiculous comparison. He was a detective, not a frightened child up past his bedtime; more than that, he was the acknowledged expert on the Kaitou Kid, who tried to redefine reality on a regular basis. He did _not_ fall prey to fantasy.

But as he watched the tendrils of mist creep out from the potshards on the floor, as the room seemed to grow even darker, Hakuba could feel his pulse and breathing rate increasing and his mouth suddenly dry.

And then the spectre turned and looked at him. Which was _impossible._

When the impossible happened he usually looked for the Kid (or his _infuriating_ alter ego), but the heist hadn't even started yet, and the magician didn't- wouldn't do this. The thief created chaos, but this was clearly meant to terrorize, which didn't make any _sense_-

A hallucination. It had to be.

And if the unknown substance was affecting him this fast, he had to get out of there _now_. Hakuba turned, abandoning dignity to scramble, half-crawling over the mess. He tried not to breathe. The room wasn't that large, but the door seemed further away then he remembered- didn't matter. Just keep moving, get out into the hall and yell for the officers.

Something caught his ankle and he tripped, narrowly missing hitting his head on a shelf. He landed hard on a low table and his breath came out in a wheezing gasp.

It tugged on his ankle again as he choked, trying to get his breath back, trying to focus his blurred eyes on the door and safety. Then something touched his other leg- and when he tried to kick out, it _pulled._

Hakuba's chin smacked the ground as he slid off the table, and he saw stars. He twisted, frantically trying to kick off whatever it was that had snagged him. He couldn't reach his ankles. The furnishings- he tried to grab them, hold himself in place, but his hands passed right through them. The floor only scraped his hands. He kicked again, panicking, and managed to flip himself over onto his back.

Writhing, shadowy tendrils met his horrified gaze, wrapped around his ankles like steel cables. They were pulling him back towards the potshards and the cloud of smoke that fevered imagination was making look like a creature out of nightmare- no, it was a hallucination, that was why- but hallucinations couldn't _drag you across the floor!_

It had eyes. They were red, not like fire, but like endless wells of blood. And they were looking right at him.

Hakuba tried in desperation to grab the tendrils, to peel them off, to do _something_- but his hands passed through them like the smoke they imitated. And then one of them curled around his left wrist and that was caught too, twisting him to the side- but his other hand couldn't touch it. He couldn't get away, it had him caught like a fly in a web and he couldn't even _move-_

"I believe that's one of mine."

The Kid was abruptly _there _next to him, white cape flowing out and top hat casting his face into even deeper shadow. His monocle gleamed, clearly visible as all the laws of optics said it shouldn't be. Like the _thing_- but the thief felt less like a new threat and more like desperately-needed reinforcements.

The demon and the tendrils of smoke froze in mid-air, as if they were sculptures of clouded glass. The pressure suddenly released, and Hakuba took the chance to catch his breath. He squirmed and managed to shift into a seated position- awkward, with his arm still stretched out in front of him, but better than being sprawled across the floor. The Kid didn't so much as glance at him.

All the smoke-figure's attention was off him now too, blood-coloured eyes turned on the white-clad thief. It didn't do or say anything that Hakuba could hear, but the Kid tilted his head slightly, as if he was listening.

"I'm afraid I can't let you have him," the Kid said coolly, addressing himself to the figure. Both were acting as if Hakuba wasn't present- or as if he was inanimate, a prize to be stolen. "Aggravating as he is, he is _my_ detective."

What?

The air darkened even further. The spectre loomed, even larger than the room, shadows gathering like shroud around its body. The tendrils of smoke spread further, crawling across the floor and curling around corners like vines. Hakuba could barely see the shelves anymore. Why hadn't the Task Force noticed an entire room disappearing? If they were even still _in_ the room; intangible furniture and flagrant disregard of the laws of physics suggested otherwise.

The Kid stood firm- and Hakuba realised that at some point the magician had moved between him and the figure. The smoke drew back from him, leaving him with an aura of clear space. Hakuba tested the strength of the tendrils grasping his extremities, but they still held fast. The Kid took a step forward.

"He is _mine._"

As the magician said it for the third time, the word carried more weight than a single voice could give it. It hung in the air like a bell chime- and Hakuba nearly fell backwards as his limbs went _through_ their misty shackles.

The figure _moved_- but the Kid moved faster, and Hakuba found himself propped up behind the thief with no memory of the time between sitting and standing. He tried to step forward, some niggling sense of pride making him want to stand on his own. The thief held out a cautioning hand and he stilled.

Whatever the thief was doing (and why he was calling Hakuba _his, _which the detective most certainly was _not_), it was working somehow. The enemy of his enemy was his friend, after all, and between a creature out of nightmare who wanted to kill him and a cordial adversary who had never truly harmed anyone- well.

So Hakuba stayed where he was, watching over the Kid's left shoulder as the figure reared back. The shadows drew away from them, coiling around its base and it seemed to hiss at them without making a sound.

The Kid straightened and tilted his head up to look directly into its eyes. "You have no claim here," he said flatly. "You have no power here. _Leave._"

It left.

***

Hakuba blinked.

He was still propped up against the wall where the thief had left him, but everything else had changed.

The room was suddenly an ordinary room again, the clutter softly lit by the lamp near the doorway. Where the shards of pottery should have been was a small pile of dust that was melting away into the air. The only sign of what had occurred was a trail of cleared space and shifted furniture between the dust and a low table.

The Kid stood a few feet away, watching him with what might, beneath his usual inscrutable mask, have been an expression of concern. In the brighter light, he seemed more like the joking trickster that Hakuba chased, and less like- like a magician out of a story. His monocle reflected only normal light, though his face was still shaded enough that Hakuba wouldn't be able to swear to his features. He did know what they were, of course, he just had to prove it. He was going to catch Kuroba eventually, even if it wasn't happening tonight; it would hardly be fair to try and jump on someone who had just- who had just-

"Are you alright, tantei-san?"

Hakuba blinked again and realised his hands were shaking. He looked at them and tried to make them still, but they wouldn't cooperate. His legs gave out suddenly.

The Kid was there, helping ease him to the floor. He thought fleetingly of trying to grab the thief- but his hands still weren't cooperating and he doubted he could work the handcuffs quickly enough to keep him. So he just sat there, staring at the shards of clay and trying not to hyperventilate.

"Did that really- what just-" He tried to think of something intelligent to say, but his mind came up blank.

"Some myths aren't all words and wishful fantasy," the Kid said quietly. "Much as we might like them to be." He almost sounded sad.

Hakuba took a deep breath. Then another. He could deal with this. He'd dealt with murders, cruelty, and the depths of what others might call human evil; he could deal with this too. Examine it, define it, and file it away, just like every other horror he'd ever seen. Though defining it might take some work...

The Kid must have seen something in his expression when he finally managed to reach a mental balance (if a shaky one), because he stood and backed out of arm's reach. Hakuba looked up at him and was met with the Kid's signature manic grin.

"Well, tantei-san, as much fun as this has been, I do have a heist to perform. If you'll excuse me." The Kid turned smoothly and headed towards the door.

"Kid-"

The thief paused. "Yes, tantei-san?"

Hakuba opened his mouth, then halted, unsure of what to say. 'That was impossible'? Obviously not, as it had just happened. 'What did you do'? Unlikely to be answered. 'I'm still going to catch you'? True, but rather rude to someone who may possibly have just saved his life.

"Thank you," he said finally.

The Kid dipped his head. He didn't turn around, but Hakuba knew that the light would be glinting off of his monocle, his face shaded by the brim of his hat. "Didn't you know, tantei-san? Nobody gets hurt at a Kid heist."

In a rustle of white, he was gone.

Minutes later, Hakuba could hear the yelling start from the room which still held Narita's talisman, accompanied by the faint sound of lightly mocking laughter. Moments later came the sound of thudding feet and the inevitable crashes, officers chasing the thief all over the house, just as he had predicted. Predicted patterns also said the thief or his retinue should probably have run past or even into the room he was in, but somehow, they never did.

Hakuba stayed seated on the floor, staring at the remains of the pot, as the sound crescendoed, then slowly died down into the low grumble of disappointed officers.

It was a long time before he moved.

***

"When the lady moon reigns and the wise ones have come to play in Tokyo streets," means "When it's midnight in Tokyo (wise ones=witches, witching hour=midnight) and it's Monday in the western hemisphere." Monday being the moon's day, so the time of the heist would be 12:00 a.m. Tuesday morning in Japan. Interestingly, Monday is also associated with the moon in Japanese tradition, but the moon is male in their mythology.


End file.
